


Horny brain activated, no thoughts, only Alpha

by Mothwood, Plouton



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Biting, Bottom Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Consensual Sex, Intersex Grimmjow, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Overstimulation, Pack Dynamics, Praise Kink, Sort Of, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Ichigo Kurosaki, Trans Male Character, mild choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothwood/pseuds/Mothwood, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plouton/pseuds/Plouton
Summary: Ichigo paces, one thumb pressed up to his mouth and dragging across the line of his teeth past his slightly open lips. Five steps, then he spins and tracks them back through the dirt in the other direction. He pauses, looks up at Kisuke, and when he doesn't get what he's looking for his scowl deepens and he returns to pacing aggressively."He could be dead.""I doubt he's dead, Kurosaki-kun.""His previous record was three minutes late. Kisuke. Threeminutes. Nel was literally attached to him when he clawed out of the Garganta. I've never even seenKenpachigo to so much effort to fight me."In Which: Grimmjow's heat cycle hits him unexpectedly and his pack helps him through this trying time.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Urahara Kisuke, Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 15
Kudos: 152





	Horny brain activated, no thoughts, only Alpha

It’s Saturday, is the thing.

It’s hard to tell in Hueco Mundo. Impossible really. The fucking moon never sets and there’s no rising sun in the mornings to distinguish time. No sun at all actually, after he and Nelliel and Harribel ripped down the canopy. Pack bonding, Neliell had laughed and Grimmjow had put another 10 meters of space between himself and the girls and their fraccion. Hueco Mundo is just a purgatory of white bone under endless moonlight.

But it _is Saturday._ And because Kisuke gave Grimmjow a thin little metal glass box that tells him it’s Saturday, Saturday has _meaning_.

Because Saturday has meaning, time has meaning.

And that’s important because Grimmjow is **late**.

Very late, actually.

3 hours late.

He feels like that should be a long time. It’s short in the grand scheme of things. But right now? As Grimmjow lays writhing on the collection of mattresses and pillows he calls a bed, hidden away in his den, sheeting shoved between his teeth to muffle the noise of his wailing, 3 hours feels like an _eternity._

_He doesn’t have a pack. They’re gone they aren’t here where’s Ichigo?!_

He sinks his claws straight through the fluffy surface between him and the floor, searching for any sort of grounding, any sort of relief as he rocks back on his own heel, bent and shoved up underneath him.

His cheek grinds into one forearm, with his eyes closed he can almost pretend it’s someone else’s hierro against his face. But it’s not and he bites down around another needy howl.

Fuck knows who he’s _calling_ to. His pack won’t come no matter how much he begs them. Ichigo is a world away. Hallibel? She’s a good alpha. Fucks good too, from what he’s heard from the Bestia. Fuck. She could fill him up so good but it wouldn't be the _same. She’s not pack. She’s not **his**. _

And he can’t call for Neliell. She actually likes him a little bit. 12% maybe. But she’s too shinigami. She’d say something about _consent_ and how he isn’t in his right state of mind right now. Too hopped up on hormones. Couldn’t decide for himself if he wanted her or if he just wants someone strong to breed him.

It’s a bullshit argument. He’s completely rational, he just can’t _stop._

He chokes on the sheets, nearly swallowing them on a desperate inhale and spits them free with a hacking cough, his pace not slowing.

Maybe, _maybe_ if he can just _get off_ even once. Then he can get himself together enough to stumble through the Garganta and even if Ichigo doesn’t do what Grimmjow _wants_ him to do, sink down over him and shove a whole hand up his cunt, then at the least Grimmjow can bruise him up. Skin to skin contact - _any contact_ \- is good enough to have Grimmjow coming in his pants. Fuck just the thought of the blood and sweat has him tipping closer to the edge.

He just wants his fight. Just wants —- AURGH, he twists his head to bite through the skin of his forearm. Sharp fangs prickle at dense hierro before sinking through to smother him again, eyes squeezing shut as the world's most subpar orgasm causes his walls to tighten and forces his jaw to unlatch with an unabashed moan.

It’s not good enough. Barely even takes the edge off. But but but, he shifts, straightens the leg he’s been grinding on out behind him and rides out the aftershocks. Shaky limbs hold him immobile until his soul or brain or whatever the fuck leaves him when he cums sinks back into his body. It’s not enough but it’ll have to do because there isn’t anything _better._

Not that he can do by himself.

Fuck, he’s never missed Di Roy and his pair of dicks so much in his life. What he wouldn’t do to be double stuffed right—

Grimmjow hauls himself out of the nest with an oversensitized whimper. He needs to focus, not be thinking about stuff he can’t have. It’s torture. But then again. Hallibel's also got two dicks. Maybe he _can_ have it.

Maybe he can seduce both Ichigo _and_ Kisuke into bed with him. Oh fuck. Right now that’s the _dream._

He pats at his waist hopelessly for a moment, feeling Pantera out, and checks that there’s no visible wet spot on the front of his jumpsuit before trying to pry open the Garganta.

He _wants_ his fucking **fight.**

* * *

Ichigo paces, one thumb pressed up to his mouth and dragging across the line of his teeth past his slightly open lips. Five steps, then he spins and tracks them back through the dirt in the other direction. He pauses, looks up at Kisuke, and when he doesn't get what he's looking for his scowl deepens and he returns to pacing aggressively.

"He could be dead."

"I doubt he's dead, Kurosaki-san."

"His previous record was three minutes late. Kisuke. Three _minutes._ Nel was literally attached to him when he clawed out of the Garganta. I've never even seen _Kenpachi_ go to so much effort to fight me."

He hears Kisuke sigh, but doesn't look up at the other man, continuing his pacing instead.

He doesn't necessarily want to admit that he cares about Grimmjow, but the bastard _has_ grown on him. The idea of him bleeding out in the sand has him and Zangetsu both baring their teeth, flexing clawed fingers. It's a protective ferocity he doesn't really have for many people. Yuzu and Karin, Yoruichi, Kisuke, and Chad, maybe Orihime (sometimes Uryuu). Grimmjow has wormed his way into Ichigo's list of truly precious people.

He's pretty sure he's wearing a groove into the ground of the training area, the blue walls and ceiling tricking his eyes into thinking there's sky instead of an enclosed space. It's huge anyway, but he likes the design choice, most days.

He's been waiting _three hours._ At first he was just _pissed,_ but then it dawned on him that Grimmjow really wouldn't just stand him up at the proverbial altar. Not for a _fight,_ at least. The arrancar is even more feral than Ichigo when it comes to a good spar. So now he's just _worrying,_ but Kisuke won't fire up his garganta for him, and Ichigo is still trying to work out the kinks of making his own (much to Zangetsu's dual-toned amusement), so he's stuck.

Pacing.

He snarls under his breath.

\---

The Garganta is a bad idea.

Grimmjow concedes to this fact as his foot falls through his narrow shitty walk way for the second time, the currents of hammer space pulling at human shaped flesh and offering to dump him back into the world at some time and some place in god knows when.

It shouldn’t be a bad idea, his reiatsu control is fucking superb normally. But all he can think of right now is dropping his hand down his pants for even the slightest bit of friction _Ohh-_ he could fuck himself with Pantera probably. She’s so much more corporeal now than she was when he first became an arrancar. Maybe she could help?

Would she help?

Or would she eat him.

Hmmmmmmmmm, a hand runs over her pommel testingly and for a moment he forgets he’s in the middle of the Garganta, thoughts scattering to the wind and a fresh needy whine building in his throat. She’s not even _real,_ she’s just in his head, but the thought of having _someone_ he trusts as much as her is dizzying.

So dizzying that he misfires when he drags the Garganta back open in Kisuke’s shōten; he makes it into some supply room rather than the training ground he tried for.

Just as well that he did because he takes one step free of the Garganta and gets a lungful of Ichigo’s reiatsu and it’s enough to send him crashing to the ground, thighs squeezing together in frustration, hips rocking uselessly and disjointed against the air.

He muffles his whimper with a whole fist between his jaws, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, _Ichigo? Ichigo why aren’t you here why am I looking for you? Don’t you want me?_

Ugh, fuck. His instincts make it sounds like Ichigo’s abandoned him which isn’t true. Not true. He’s waiting for him. He _waited_ for Grimmjow, three hours later! Three! He’s here, he’s here.

Grimmjow sucks in a breath and takes a long moment to remember which of his four limbs are used for walking, the jumpsuit pulls awkwardly when he tries to stand, pulled taut across his vag for a second and he shoves his hips back to chase the brief pleasurable sensation before remembering he’d feel so much better with Ichigo fucking him.

Before re-remembering he’s not _here_ to be fucked. He’s here for a fight. For blood and swords. And maybe for Ichigo to try to shove him down and under him, his sword slicing delicately through Grimmjow's clothes and twisting him over and shoving his face down, ass up, stretching him open with long fingers even as he claws at the ground. Oh it’ll be good, so good. Ichigo’s such a nice alpha. So, so—

He drags himself back to his feet properly, staggering to the door to the little supply closet with a trill, _IchigopackIchigoplease?_ He’s not _begging._ He’s Grimmjow, he doesn’t beg. But he is asking very insistently because he doesn’t think his legs are going to hold him much longer and he _really_ wants Ichigo’s hands on him.

* * *

Ichigo stops, abruptly, completely still, every muscle tense and unmoving. He doesn't even glance Kisuke's way before he's blurring into shunpo, up through the air to the trapdoor. He shoves it open and takes a deep breath, and his mind fades out at the edges.

The next thing he knows he's reaching for the doorknob of one of the little supply closets, and he hesitates. Takes stock of himself, of the claws at the end of his fingers, the rumbling purr that's buzzing in his chest. He doesn't know when that happened, but he recognises Grimmjow's reiatsu in the room in front of him -- something is _off_ about it, and he can hear the tail end of a muffled trill.

He thinks _injured,_ and then he thinks _no, just needs me,_ and then he doesn't bother thinking anymore and opens the door, bracing in case Grimmjow comes out with claws extended for his throat in some parody of self defense. He doesn't cut his purr off, eyes wide in confusion and _concern._

Especially when the pheromones hit his nose full force and he squints a little. Zangetsu makes an exaggerated moaning noise in his head, Ossan retreats away from them both and hides away somewhere in Ichigo's inner world with some amount of amused disgust.

**_"Oh, fuck, King. Now I'm rock hard. You better do something about this."_ **

Ichigo resolutely ignores his hollow zanpakuto spirit, and instead focuses on catching Grimmjow, who was apparently leaning heavily against the door and toppled all over himself when it swung outward.

The little gasp he makes when he crumbles into Ichigo’s arms is elated. He’d forgotten he was trying to leave the room for a moment. Had tried to shove his foot back up and between his legs and hadn’t been able to get the leverage he needed but Ichigo’s _here!_

"Grimm?" Ichigo doesn't catch himself on the abbreviation, too busy holding up the taller man's weight and trying to get at his face, touch his forehead with the back of one of his hands in some engrained doctor's-son instinct.

 _“Please,”_ the arrancar gets out instead of actually explaining anything, his arms wrapping immediately around Ichigo’s shoulders, weight dropping unevenly to the side as he tries to press his face closer to Ichigo’s throat. The shinigami smells _divine._ Better than anything else and Grimmjow wonders if he’ll cum just from breathing him in if he deprives himself long enough.

“The fight. 'M sorry,” he tries again, doesn’t quite know what he’s saying though. Is it an apology? An excuse? He wraps one ankle around the other and presses his legs together again. _Why isn’t Ichigo fucking him yet?_

Ichigo makes a small, choked little sound and then tilts his head a little, hands wrapping more firmly around Grimmjow's waist and hauling him up against him. He's a little startled to note the arrancar really doesn't seem to weigh much, despite his broad shoulders and height, and he takes a minute to press his nose into the man's temple and breathe him in like his instincts tell him to.

Ah. He doesn't understand in the slightest, but Zangetsu seems to, if the cackling is any sort of sign. He casts about with his senses, a little frantic suddenly, and then he scoops Grimmjow up into a sort of bastardised bridal hold, hooking him under the knees and tucking him close so he still has access to Ichigo's throat.

He doesn't bother _walking_ down the hall. He blurs in and then out of a flash step and shoves the sliding door to Kisuke's bedroom door open with a toe, breathes deeply past Grimmjow's oppressive wall of reiatsu to find the room only smells of Kisuke. Good. Acceptable, safe.

He nudges the door shut again with one foot and moves over to the large bed, eyeing the messy comforter. He may be a genius, but Kisuke isn't terribly _neat._ In this situation, that works out well for Ichigo, and he leans over and proceeds to gently drop Grimmjow into the soft pile, and then starts aggressively tucking the comforter around him, scowling deeply. It's not _quite_ enough, and he briefly considers the logistics of speeding home to grab some of his own blankets to pad out the nest, then abandons the idea because it means he'd be leaving Grimmjow alone. That's just _not acceptable._

Ichigo coos, low in his throat and smooths his fingers through sweaty blue locks instead, then busies himself removing both his swords, placing them to the side on the floor, unhooks both of Grimmjow's stupid little white belts, shoving them and Pantera down on top of his own blades. He doesn't even think about the connotations to that. Just needs them out of the way, out of the nest.

“Please, _please, puh-lease_ ,” Grimmjow gasps out, _thinks_ he gasps out. Might not have. Mouth might have stopped working. He’s not sure. But his alpha is here so it’s okay. He’ll be okay. Fuck he needs to cum. He needs some sort of— _why isn’t he touching him!_ Did he get it wrong. Do humans do other stuff first? Can’t remember, he hasn’t been human in so long.

He leans forward to run his tongue across Ichigo’s clothing covered abs anyway, one broad lick of his tongue, his hands dropping to his bulge in his suit. He should take his suit off, that would be smarter, but _fuck his hand feels so good wrapped around his cock_ , why didn’t he do this sooner?

 _AlphaIchigo? I’mgoodplease_ he whimper purr chokes out, hips stuttering against his hand, the other reaching up to wrap long fingers around Ichigo’s closest wrist, trying to drag it down where he _needs_ it. Where’s Kisuke? He blinks blearily, open mouth catching the other man's scent in his nest. So good of Ichigo to find him a nest. A proper one. So so nice.

“K’ske?” He remembers to ask, then decides he doesn’t much care as long as _Ichigo_ is here with him. His thoughts of their fight have long since been drowned out by the much more pressing matter of getting Ichigo to fuck him as hard and fast as possible. He needs something inside him _now,_ and he makes his displeasure known with another desperate rock of his hips and the wail that follows.

Ichigo coos, and Shiro shoves at his thoughts and mind, and all of a sudden he's fumbling at the zip over Grimmjow's chest, purring through a staccato trill of _I'mheredon'tworrydarling_ in his throat.

"Move your hand, lemme take it off, can't get to you." He murmurs, twists and presses himself between Grimmjow's legs while he waits for the heat-addled arrancar to obey, pushes his thighs open and settles himself between them, drags him up by the hips so he's angled and accessible.

Grimmjow shoves his head back, pressing his crown into the pillows and offers his throat in silent apology, he can’t get his hands to move like he wants because he _needs needs needs so badly, anything, any touch, he needs it._

Ichigo shoves his hand away and so Grimmjow latches onto the front of Ichigo’s clothes instead, pulling at the ties and the folded fabric across his stomach, and it’s all pretty useless and his hands are still mostly in the way, but _stars_ explode behind his eyes every time his fingers find skin to direct skin contact; and it’s so good he hopes Ichigo doesn’t mind.

Ichigo pauses at the sight Grimmjow makes, clarity and confusion invading his mind before Shiro hushes him, and he refocuses back on the hollow splayed out in the makeshift nest in front of him, half in his lap. He wants to get his mouth around Grimmjow's cock. It's a violent, overwhelming need, and then he's going to fit his fingers one by one inside him and press him open.

His mind flashes to Kisuke when _his omega_ slurs the man's name and- oh where is he? He should be here shouldn't he, help him take _care_ of the omega. Ichigo doesn't have a dick of his own to stuff Grimmjow full with, they need Kisuke, need him to round out their little pack, _yes._ He warbles briefly, then remembers to use his human words even as he gets impatient and shoves Grimmjow's hand off his clothed erection so he can fully unzip the jumpsuit.

"Kisuke!" He calls over his shoulder, loathed to drag his eyes from the expanse of tan flesh. His scar across Grimmjow's chest is a badge of ownership. Hands tug at the shoulders of the bodysuit, trying to peel it down and off thick muscle but his claws catch at the fabric. He snarls, and then shreds it, because it is _in his way,_ and he flays it apart all the way down Grimmjow's thighs like an animal. Ducks his head and presses the flat of his tongue over the raised edge of the shiny scar _he_ gave Grimmjow, then sits back up again.

There’s definitely a spot on Grimmjow’s suit now. He can feel the slick between his legs, the pre beading at his tip. His dick is pretty irrelevant in the middle of a heat. It’ll feel good but he needs to be _filled,_ his instincts demand it. Demand cum and hot pressure and “-‘chigo—“ he breaks off into a petulant whine, _please already please._

He doesn’t know how much more of this teasing he can handle he needs _something_ in him **now.**

“Well, well, what do we have here, Kurosaki-kun? I am afraid this might be beyond my pay grade.” Kisuke slips quietly into his room, not even his geta alert the pair to his presence before he speaks.

Grimmjow gasps in utter delight when he spots him, much too out of it to process such a complex series of words. He tilts his hips to give Ichigo better access though, fingers twisting into the bedding to brace himself. He greets the other man with a quick series of clicks, _youreherethankyoucomehere,_ also mostly gibberish, but the meaning is there. Come fuck me.

Ichigo's purr rises in volume and he drags his fingers along the curving length of Grimmjow's dick, briefly, and then he turns a little to look at Kisuke, eyes wide and relieved, a happy smile slipping across his face even as his hand drops. Having Grimmjow in his lap does wonders for soothing his earlier anxiety.

His claws retract with a delicate _snik_ and then he's pressing two fingers into Grimmjow's cunt, feeling along his walls and judging the space he has, how much he can safely fit, how far back he can _take_ it.

"Grimm needs us," he manages to say it in something his beta can understand, at least, "-come on come on _Ki-su-ke_. Be good." _My beta,_ he tacks onto the end, a happy trill, he already feels more secure in the nest with the both of them there to protect Grimmjow while he's vulnerable, or as vulnerable as someone like Grimmjow can be. Ichigo’s certain he could still commit incomparable amounts of violence if his fingers were to be ripped away right now.

It might have been weird, not so long ago, to call Kisuke by his first name. But after all they’ve been through, especially after Grimmjow just up and moved in (he didn’t give Kisuke much of a choice when he claimed the spare room as his own), it feels more like something _earned._ Mutual respect. The sheer number of nights Ichigo has spent at the shōten instead of his own home; talking, then laughing, then flirting - lightly, more like Yoruichi's natural state of persistent teasing than anything else - it has made calling him anything else feel like an insult to the very foundation of their relationship. Not that Kisuke doesn’t _still_ occasionally call him Kurosaki-san, for old times sake, and to make Ichigo scowl. His name sounds so good on Ichigo’s tongue now, it’s a wonder that he hadn’t started years back.

Such a strong pack member, too. So good for him.

Ichigo feels a bit daft that he didn’t notice sooner. Grimmjow didn’t see fit to tell him apparently. Not that that sort of thing bothered Ichigo, he only cares about how they make him feel. Both of them are _so good_ for him and he makes sure they both know it with his beaming smile and happy chirping. He curls his fingers, drags the pads of them up against Grimmjow's inner walls, looking for the soft spot that always makes _him_ muffle a squeal when he finds it with a toy. His fingers can't quite get the same angle on himself, but he knows where it is.

Grimmjow's eyes roll, mouth open and catching on another breath, panting as he tries to hold his legs how Ichigo positioned him, how Ichigo alpha my pack please _oh fuck_ placed him, but it’s hard and he really wants to lock his legs behind Ichigo and—-

One hand reaches out for Kisuke. He’s still standing guard by the door. Very good so good protecting him but Grimmjow _needs him here._ Next to him. Where he can touch him.

But he’s just _standing_ in the corner like a very cute but also very confused puppy and Grimmjow can’t have that when he could be sucking on the beta's dick instead.

“Kurosaki-kun? I don’t believe it’s best if I stay. Please feel free to use my quarters—“

“Here! Now!” Grimmjow snaps out, head lifted to pin the man with watery blue eyes. Kisuke would leave him? His hand wraps around Ichigo’s wrist in desperate need, even as he rocks against the intrusion, Ichigo’s long fingers between his legs. Oh that’s _so good,_ what was he thinking about? Ichigo will take care of him, take care of it.

Ichigo croons reassuringly down at Grimmjow, soft and gentle, a counterpoint to the third finger he presses into him and uses to open him up, more contact inside him, up to the last knuckle, stroking and pressing and twisting. Trying to give the omega as much contact as he can. Then he fixes his gaze back on Kisuke, and oh. Darling beta looks so confused. That's right, he isn't hollow, is he? Doesn't quite understand. It's alright, Ichigo is the _alpha,_ he'll _help him understand._

"Kisuke. C'mere, come help me. I can't fill him up like he _needs,_ he needs your cock. Help me? Help us. Be good for me?" He purrs it out, lifts his free hand from Grimmjow's hip where he was holding him mostly still and beckons the shinigami closer. "Came here to be _safe,_ safe with your scent and reiatsu, c'mon, pack, come over here. Nest with us."

Very absently he notes that hollow speech patterns don’t properly translate to Japanese. The words are simpler, more focused on expressing ideas and thoughts quickly rather than padding sentences full of nice transition words. Kisuke’s clever enough to understand regardless.

“Ichigo…” Kisuke looks at a loss. Startled grey eyes darting between Ichigo, Grimmjow, and the hand currently being used to fingerfuck Grimmjow open.

Grimmjow is still desperate, and Ichigo hums and slips the fourth finger in, presses his thumb up against the underside of Grimmjow's cock and stretches all his fingers out inside him, pulls him wide open. His attention wavers between his handsome, strong beta, still standing so _far away from them,_ and Grimmjow's leaking cock. He'd put his mouth on it, but he needs it free to coax Kisuke into their nest where he belongs. He chirps, softly, eyes snapping back to the older man even as he keeps fucking Grimmjow on his fingers, (almost his whole hand, so greedy).

"You _belong_ with us. Mine, my love. _Ours_ , our beta. Kisuke _please._ I need you." It's true, and he lets his eyes fall half lidded, lashes fanning out across his vision, but the obstruction doesn't matter because Kisuke would _never_ let him get hurt while he's there to prevent it, not now. Not after all this time. And certainly not with a vulnerable omega in the mix, too. Kisuke is _so good_ for Ichigo, for Grimmjow. (He can't help it when he turns, then drags his tongue along the underside of Grimmjow's length. It just looks so lonely, there.)

Grimmjow's gone.

He’s gone.

He’s.

No wait he's still there but his entire existence, every flicker of attention has been dragged down and grounded by Kurosaki’s hand. He thinks maybe he’s stretching him too fast. Maybe he’s so wet it feels easy but _fuck_ he’s so fucking full he’s so, he can feel every pet and pull of those fingers against his walls and he can’t feel anything else.

He’s not sure he remembers stumbling into the nest. Did he make it to the training room? Doesn’t matter, Ichigo came and found him good good good good alpha. Is he telling him so? Thinks he must be, can’t quite hear over the rush of blood in his ears, but his throat already feels raw, heavy rolling purrs and whimpers and moans escaping him like a broken faucet. Gushing free and into the open. Good, Ichigo deserves to know how good he’s making him feel.

Kisuke’s in the doorway still. It’s the only thing he can register beyond _Ichigo In Him_ — oh wait he can also register Ichigo’s _Mouth On Him_ , he’s so fucking licentious, like he forgets sometimes that the only things hollows use their mouth for is eating (and biting, gently enough not to shred meat from bone but definitly enough for bruisings and scars), Ichigo should remember to mark him up. He wants everyone to know how well his alpha is treating him.

He tips his head back with another groan, arms crossing over his face, the teeth of his mask pinching at one arm. He feels so overwhelmed there’s so much and it’s _so good_ —

Kisuke would say he is a smart man. And yet somehow he completely missed these warning signs. He knew _of_ pack bonding. He knew that hollows were remarkably social once they decided they could trust not to be eaten. He had assumed there was some sexual relief to be found amongst that dynamic.

He was not prepared to be _included_ in the dynamic.

Perhaps he should have been. Grimmjow spent every spare minute lounging around the shōten, even when Ichigo wasn’t there - that should have been the first clue. He wasn’t even particularly standoffish after the first few weeks, after Urahara started to set a plate out for him at meal times. And once the alcohol came out. Shit. Urahara really should have guessed.

He tries to keep his eyes averted from Grimmjow's writhing body, all that exposed skin and the fluttering of his chest as he gasps and makes all sorts of desperate little noises he’s not entirely certain a soul can replicate.

He tries even harder to keep his eyes off Ichigo, off his moving (and clearly very practiced) hand, the peek of his tongue when he leans down to lick at Grimmjow's cock. Kisuke hardly believes this is the same boy who squealed and blushed when he saw Yoruichi nude.

“Ichi- Kurosaki-kun, I don’t believe this is entirely appropriate. You don’t seem to be in the mindset to suggest anything due to Grimmjow’s pheromones.” His hand flexes against the inner door handle. He doesn’t want to leave. It’s not _safe_ to leave them, but that is not the kind of thought he’s ever had before, certainly not about Grimmjow and Ichigo, and perhaps he _too_ is being affected by Grimmjow's pheromones.

Ichigo hums and lifts himself away from Grimmjow, unfolding his spine and sitting up, and he pats the inside of the omega's thigh and starts absently undoing the half-pulled ties of his shihakusho. He peels one sleeve off of himself, then realises he's going to have to extricate himself from where he's fucking into Grimmjow with his fingers in order to be completely free of the heavy fabric, overheated. It's so _warm_ in here. He scowls, and proceeds to claw down his own arm instead of deprive his omega, splitting the fabric (and his own skin, but it seals right back up anyway) and when there's only bandages left around his chest, (and his hakama on his legs, but hopefully Kisuke will come and occupy Grimmjow and he'll get the chance to squirm free of them) he lets out a relieved sigh.

He focuses all his attention on the arrancar for a moment, the way he gasps around needy little sounds, (so pretty, so good for him,) and the way he tries to press himself closer, writhing on Ichigo's fingers, open and _dripping_ slick. His hakama are halfway soaked where Grimmjow is splayed across his lap.

"Kisuke," he hums, tears his gaze away and back to the shinigami. "'M still me. It's _instinct_ , not insanity. We _need_ your help. Need _you._ I'm asking because you're _pack._ You're _mine anyway._ It won't change."

It's the closest he can come to what he wants to _say,_ properly, with low croons and fluttery chirps, and he wonders if Kisuke will let him leave bites along his collarbones. He's already mapping out where he's going to break skin with his teeth on Grimmjow- along his shoulders, his inner thighs. Over his chest, maybe, he wonders if Grimmjow's nipples are sensitive? He wants to find out. He wants to mark both of them up. _His._

Kisuke still looks so uncertain, almost guilty. But he hasn’t stepped out yet.

He purrs louder, pitches a croon directed at Grimmjow, _mine, myomegamyomegasogoodforme,_ and then a needy little chirp back at Kisuke, meeting his eyes again. _Pleasepleasewantyouheremypack._

Grimmjow relishes and indulges in Ichigo for a long moment and then his patience snaps. Because fucking KISUKE URAHARA won’t get his goddamned dick out. What. Is Grimmjow’s pussy somehow not fucking good enough? Fucking bull _shit_. He pulls a foot up to physically shove Ichigo off and back, doesn’t have the willpower to extract himself any other way, though he coos an apology as he rolls himself to the edge of the bed, flattening Ichigo’s very cute attempt at nesting him in with the comforters.

He stands with a huff, none of his usual feline grace missing despite how badly he needs Ichigo back inside him or how damp his thighs are, and shucks the remnants of his shredded uniform as he stalks over to the shinigami.

“Grimmjow-san?” Kisuke asks, voice strained even as he very politely keeps his eyes only on the arrancar's face.

“Don’t you fucking, ‘Grimmjow-san’ me,” he huffs, hands jumping up to press slightly sweaty palms to Kisuke’s cheeks, tilting his head back just that slightest of centimeters so Grimmjow can press their mouths together. Grimmjow _actually_ presses the entire pane of their bodies together. And then his moment of complete clarity leaves him and it's an angry yank, a needy whine against Kisuke’s lips and the desperate grind of his erection against Kisuke’s hip that seems to finally convince the man to stumble forwards and onto the bed with him. “Can you _please_ just fuck me already!”

Ichigo grins, wildly amused as Grimmjow drags Kisuke over to the makeshift nest, and shuffles back so he doesn't get caught up in the tangle of limbs. He uses the moment of freedom to finish stripping his own clothes off, shoving them off to the side and onto the floor. He immediately feels ten degrees cooler with the action.

As soon as Grimmjow has pulled the shinigami down over him, Ichigo presses up against Kisuke’s back with a purr, hands sliding around between the beta and omega and deftly opening up his outerwear as well, dragging his fingers appreciatively over the man's chest and tugging his collar open wide, even as he presses kisses along the back of his neck. He's tempted to just _shred_ the get up like he did Grimmjow's; but he's feeling a little more sane than before. For now, anyway.

He yanks the stupid stripy coat off, momentarily pinning Kisuke's arms behind his back - he thinks he hears a seam pop from the force of it, but he's already throwing it off to the side, so he doesn't check - and he growls under his breath at the next layer of cloth keeping Kisuke _removed_ from his and Grimmjow's touch. Unacceptable.

It’s an awkward number of bodies for Grimmjow to try to wrap his legs around, especially with all the shifting and groping hands, but he’s determined (and desperate) enough to grind himself back against someone’s thigh that he attempts it anyway. Grimmjow has claws enough to help Ichigo undress Kisuke, but he has to be so careful not to rip skin it’s almost not worth it. Kisuke can handle some pain but he’s already so tentative and Grimmjow might _actually die_ if he can’t get a cock in him in the next few minutes.

Fortunately for all his protesting, Kisuke still hasn’t taken his tongue out of Grimmjow’s mouth and his hands are definitely on his thighs, hoisting him higher in his lap, large palms and long fingers kneading at strong hierro enhanced muscle. “We should've gotten you in a gigai,” he murmurs into Grimmjow’s ear, rocking his hips up into Grimmjow. He’s still wearing _goddamned **pants!**_ “See what noises you make when you have no hierro~ hmm?”

Grimmjow would snark something back under usual circumstances, but all he can get out now is another desperate wail, _please please please_ fuck, the gigai would kill him; he’s already so oversensitive, without his hierro - claws clutching at Kisuke’s back, his beta, the steady center of the pack, holding him steady - where’s “ _Ichi?”_ He blinks blue eyes open again, searching for his alpha.

“He’s here,” Kisuke comforts.

Ichigo croons in agreement, pitching it loud to reassure his omega, _don'tworrydon'tworry,_ and he decides Kisuke most definitely has other clothing, so _fuck_ it. It's too much effort to strip him like a human.

He runs his claws down the shinigami's back, tearing apart the robe, and then when Kisuke’s upper body is mostly free of restrictive fabric, he leans in again and kisses apologetically at the shallow scratches he left in the man's skin, hands winding back around his waist and then dipping down. He slides his fingers down along the man's stomach, then further, pushing his waistband down and dipping underneath his pants anyway.

Ichigo wraps his hand around Kisuke's length with a pleased rumble, and promptly frees it. It’s shameful to keep it hidden and away from satisfying their omega. He drags Kisuke’s pants further down his hips to make sure Kisuke can't escape the sensation when Grimmjow grinds down against him again, this time bare skin against skin. Not that the shinigami is complaining much now. He peers over Kisuke's shoulder curiously, presses an absent kiss to the man's temple, and sighs adoringly.

" _Kisuke,_ " he hums, and it's half an appreciative moan, half an endearment.

The man moans back appreciatively, rocking slightly into Ichigo’s hold and purposefully teasing over Grimmjow’s hole.

Ichigo’s never actually- touched a cock, before. It's _hot_ , and oddly heavy, a little curved along the shaft. He decides it's not at all unpleasant, and delicately strokes his palm along it, once, before pushing down slightly, aligning the head with Grimmjow's cunt on the next jerk of the omega's hips.

“ _Fucccck,”_ Grimmjow groans out, head tipping back against the bedding again, throat bared and mouth open as ragged gasps seesaw in and out of his chest. It’s like heroin, instant relief from the overwhelming heat that’s burning through him and yet it does nothing to ground him at all.

Kisuke leans back into the warm press of Ichigo’s body behind him, hands sliding from Grimmjow’s hips to his chest, harshly pinching one nipple between his fingers, just to see Grimmjow jerk, head twisting to the side to mouth and bite at the comforter. It’s a useless attempt at smothering himself, but in order to properly hide his gasps and groans he’d have to take his hands off Ichigo and Kisuke, which seems much more blasphemous.

Ichigo sits up a little more on his knees so he can keep watching over Kisuke's shoulders, and the bandages still wrapped around his chest feel a little constricting. Being the smallest of the three is a little annoying when he has to curve over either of the bigger men in the nest.

He reluctantly let's go of Kisuke's cock, drapes his arms around the shinigami's shoulders instead and nips at the side of his throat, pupils blown wide as he stares down at Grimmjow. Fuck, his omega looks so good paired up with Kisuke, hands on Grimmjow's thighs, holding him open. They're so _handsome._ Ichigo is in love. He's also trying very hard not to press his thighs together and squirm, or slip one of his hands down and press fingers inside himself. Fuck, he's not as wet as Grimmjow, but he's sure as hell not unaffected either.

Grimmjow is oh he’s. _Oh._

He’s _ohhh~_ can’t fucking think around the push and pull of Kisuke inside him. He _can’t-_

Who needs to think when they have a cock inside them? When they have their pack taking care of them?

His hand slides around Kisuke’s sides to find Ichigo, pulling gently to try encourage him to come closer, put more of his skin on Grimmjow’s. His other reaches up to knock that stupid hat off Kisuke’s head - shoulda been the first thing Ichigo stripped him of - to take a fistful of hair and pull him down.

Ichigo feels his omega tug at his side with shaky fingers, trying to draw him closer, and he unlatches himself from Kisuke with an agreeable little chirp, shifting to the right and laying down into the makeshift nest along Grimmjow's side.

Kisuke laughs and leans forward agreeably, licking into Grimmjow's open panting mouth without hesitation.

It’s _hhhhnng._ Grimmjow will need a new brain after this because Kisuke and Ichigo are going to fuck it out of him.

It's easy, with Grimmjow clinging to Kisuke's shoulders and tugging at blonde strands, for Ichigo to press up semi-under him, along warm skin. He purrs, low and pleased, props himself up on one arm and slides his other hand over Grimmjow's chest, then down to rest lightly on his stomach above the yaw of his hollow hole.

He watches, a smile tugging across his face as Kisuke fucks into their omega, and once he's pretty sure they've settled into a neater rhythm, Grimmjow no longer trying to squirm and press closer, disruptive, instead weakly being dragged along for the ride, he wraps his hand around the omega's cock and strokes him. He does it slowly, a counterpoint to the even pace he's being fucked at, and revels in the desperate sounds Grimmjow makes.

(Distantly, he wonders what it feels like, to be that warm and full, is it as good as Grimmjow seems to think it is for someone who isn't in heat? Maybe he's a little jealous. Just a tiny bit- this isn't for him, though. It's for his omega's pleasure.)

Ichigo leans in, decides to make good on the absent thought of marking him up, presses kisses along the curve of Grimmjow's shoulder when he arches up to suck on Kisuke's tongue, and then sinks sharp teeth into the meat of it, puncturing the hierro, and laps away the blood.

Grimmjow jolts under his tongue, startled perhaps, and adjusts to give Ichigo more space, head twisting to the back and side exposing the whole unmarred line of his throat for Ichigo and Kisuke to mark him thoroughly. “P-please, Ich--ahh--”

Kisuke thrusts hard, smirk curling at the corner of his mouth in a way that indicates his movements are entirely intended as a way to shut Grimmjow up, and Grimmjow tries to glare through it and gather himself, maybe even haul his mental faculties back together long enough to offer a retort, but Ichigo’s gentle laughter and the hot press of his mouth is enough to distract him again, and he sinks back into the nest.

He is, however, petty enough (now that he already has Kisuke’s cock fucking him open, legs wrapped like a vice around the man) to ignore him in favour of tangling clumsy fingers into Ichigo’s hair, “gonna kiss me p-proper,” he loses his words, really only tried to speak for Kisuke’s benefit, and slips into a warm needy purr, ‘ _hereherehere pleeeease,’_ trying to tug Ichigo higher on his throat, higher again up to his mouth.

Ichigo croons softly, muffled against skin as he presses slow, chaste kisses along the length of Grimmjow's exposed throat before mouthing at the line of his jaw, nipping gently and pinching skin between his teeth, teasing. The omega's purr hitches audibly in his chest and Ichigo has mercy on him, lets go of his cock with one last gentle squeeze upwards towards the head, and leans up to kiss him _properly_.

“Brat!” Kisuke chuckles, catching the flicker of a blue-eyed glare over Ichigo’s shoulder, and swats Grimmjow on the thigh in tempered retribution.

Grimmjow whines again, at the smack and at the simultaneous retraction of Ichigo’s his hand, the loss of sensation causing him to buck pathetically back into the air, but that takes him further from Kisuke and he’s quick to roll his hips back in the other direction, rutting against the hot length inside him.

“Sooo-oh good,” Grimmjow moans against Ichigo’s lips before licking a broad stroke across the roof of his mouth, and finding his rhythm with Kisuke again. Fuck it _is. It’s so good._ He’s warm and safe and full and surrounded and -- And Ichigo isn’t fucking him yet, and he really should be. He should be. Grimmjow wants to be good. Do a good job for Ichigo.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he tips his head back to break the kiss, and heave in a great lungful of air, panting, eyes shut, _ooh he’s gonna cum soon_ , he was about to say something, wasn’t he? His hand snakes around to his cock, thumb rubbing over the head and he thrusts into his grip, leans up to try to catch Ichigo’s lips again. _Can’t focus - so good so full_. “Ki-Kisuke--”

The beta leans over him further, weight pressing him firmly into the nest with every heavy rock of his hips. His gaze drags across the line of the other's face, catching on every sharp line. He's so _pretty_ like this, reduced down from his natural state of rage to something sweet and pliant. 

“Beautiful,” he hums deliberately, searching for the flush in the arrancars cheeks. He has such darling reactions to gentle words, an unusual quirk for a hollow with as savage a history as Grimmjow’s, and yet one Kisuke picked up on near immediately upon their original meeting and which has only been further cemented in his mind as the months have passed by. “Will you cum for us, darling Grimmjow?”

Grimmjow’s eyes snap back open, the brilliant blue of his irises swallowed whole, “y-ye-ehs, ye-” he breaks off into a desperate wail and his legs tighten around Kisuke’s waist, hands reaching blindly for his pack, for something to ground him against the crashing tidal wave of pleasure and heat the request brings. The second wave rolls him completely, his back arching, eyes shutting and air locked in his lungs, every muscle taut, reiatsu spilling uselessly from his grip.

Ichigo croons, a low roll of _pretty, so pretty, so good, good omega,_ pulls away to watch Grimmjow's eyes close and his spine curve, and god. He really _is_ so pretty, so handsome. Strong omega, and Ichigo drags one hand down along the diagonal line of scar tissue from the arrancar's shoulder to hip as Kisuke swears and curls down over the omega as well. Shallow little thrusts as Grimmjow locks down around him, the tight walls of his cunt preventing him from pulling out and away.

Ichigo wonders what it _feels like_ to be so split open, and then his instincts overwhelm him with the image of Grimmjow split open underneath him, too. Maybe next time he can corral his omega into his room, use his favourite things to make Grimmjow feel _good_ \- corral like he knows Grimmjow wouldn’t _jump_ at the opportunity to be fucked open by him - in the safety of his own nest _._ He’d be so greedy for it.

But Kisuke is doing _so well_ for them both. Ichigo really has the _best_ little pack. All his. Fuck, he's so turned on it _aches,_ every tiny shift of his thighs making sparks curl up into his insides.

 _Mine,_ he purrs, drags his tongue along the inside of his sharp teeth.

 _Yours, yours,_ Grimmjow gets out, slurred and thready, barely aware of his surroundings, hips still rolling against Kisuke's.

Kisuke chuckles, amazed at how _easy_ it was to push the arrancar over the edge, gentle words and a thick cock. Grimmjow’s praise kink is a work of _art_. He rounds his back to lick at the thin streaks of cum on Grimmjow’s chest, fingers dipping barely into his hollow hole to scoop it out and try to limit the extent of the over stimulation.

He fucks in twice, thrice times more, Grimmjow’s legs slowly going lax at his back, the desperate hold over his bicep falling back to the mattress, eyes unfocused, but making a valiant effort to fix on his lovers. It’s the visual of Grimmjow, usually full of violent intent, all fucked out and placid that sends Kisuke over the edge after him, his face buried in the crook between Grimmjow’s neck and Ichigo’s thigh.

Ichigo reaches out and drags fingers through messy blonde hair, still purring, halfway satisfied himself. He's still _aching,_ yes, but his omega and beta are _good_ and _happy_ and it makes the alpha feel relaxed, himself. He's not here for his own pleasure.

There’s a moment of stillness, shared breathing, and then Grimmjow starts rocking again against the softening cock plugging him up. “‘S good, K’s’ke.”

Ichigo chirps, tugs at Kisuke's hair briefly, then lets him go to focus on nipping at the shell of Grimmjow's ear, laughs low and soft when the omega huffs needily.

“That didn’t wear you out at all, did it?” Kisuke laughs lightly again, slowly lifting his weight off of the arrancar.

Despite the deep flush and glassy gaze, Grimmjow’s smug grin is every bit that of the arrogant hollow they know. “ _Again.”_

"You heard him," Ichigo snickers, moves down and mouths at the underside of Grimmjow's jaw absently, flicks his gaze up to Kisuke, meets his eyes.

Ichigo's irises are acid yellow, but his sclera are still pale. "He wants you to fuck him _again,_ Ki-su-ke _._ " His voice drops low, the way it vibrates blatantly inhuman, and somewhat enthralling.

“You too. You.” Grimmjow winds a hand up through Ichigo’s hair, fingers playing with orange strands. “Gonna ride me?”

Ichigo shivers, closes his eyes abruptly and makes a soft, punched out little sound, nips at Grimmjow's skin. His teeth don't break hierro without actual effort put in, and he hesitates.

"You want that?" He murmurs, sits up a little and hums when Grimmjow tightens his grip and pulls on his hair, making his scalp sting slightly. His cheeks flush red. "Mm, I've never-"

But. Oh. He _wants to,_ now that Grimmjow has put the damn thought in his head. Wonders how many times Kisuke could make Grimmjow cry and come and fill him up inside. (He's pretty sure he never would have found the thought of being drowned in scent and comfort and skin so appealing before this.)

“Ye-esssss,” Grimmjow hisses, trying to increase his pace again, only for Kisuke to pin him down, two large hands pressing at his hip bones, a strained look on his face and an echoing hiss passing from his own lips.

“ _Wait_ ,” he all but growls, grey eyes narrowed down at the Arrancar and Grimmjow stills immediately with a hitched breath, pupils blown wide again. Kisuke smirks, pleased at the response. Any other time, ordering Grimmjow around like this would earn violent retribution, but now he whines and trembles, holds himself as still as possible even though both Kisuke and Ichigo _know_ how badly he craves friction.

Unfortunately, Kisuke isn’t blessed with the increased stamina and shortened refractory period characteristic of a hollow. He must improvise, and he has to admit he is _very_ much enjoying how nicely Grimmjow is keeping his cock warm right now.

“Ichigo-kun?” The shinigami purrs after a long moment where Grimmjow strains to obey, his thighs and cunt quivering in effort, “I think you should ride him. I am quite comfortable to rest here a while yet.”

Grimmjow whimpers again and then bucks his hips rebeliously, a snarl crossing his face - If Kisuke won’t _fuck him_ then he’ll just have to do all the work _himself!_

That idea is short lived. The moment Grimmjow tries to rear up, feet locking around Kisuke’s back in an attempt to grapple him down and underneath him so Grimmjow can start riding him Kisuke’s reiatsu expands and a hand clamps down over his throat, shoving him back down into the mattress.

“Tut tut,” Kisuke purrs, smiling genially and unbothered. “ _Stay_.”

Grimmjow opens his mouth to complain, eyes darting to Ichigo in search of assistance only to find an equally amused look on his alphas face. “What the he-”

Ichigo sweeps his hand up Grimmjow’s cum splattered chest and then shoves his fingers past sharp teeth, “Shhhhhh, you were told to wait,” he chastises. Gold eyes glint and clawed digits depress Grimmjow's tongue until he swallows, contentment replacing his defiance.

“Good boy,” Kisuke praises, and it’s unclear who exactly he’s talking to, but the spare hand on Grimmjow’s hip trails up to fist around his cock and offers a few slow tugs, much to Grimmjow’s satisfaction. His cock hasn’t softened in the slightest despite his orgasm.

Grimmjow sucks more eagerly at Ichigo’s fingers, lashes fluttering shut and drool slipping from the corners of his mouth when Ichigo pumps his fingers in time with his swallowing.

Ichigo _purrs_ in contentment, other hand coming up to cup the unmasked side of Grimmjow's jawline, smoothing clean fingers over hierro-clad skin and then down along the lines of his throat. He scissors the fingers of his other hand inside the arrancar's mouth, brushes against teeth and gums, then gently digs claw-points into his soft tongue, not quite enough to draw blood.

"Good omega," Ichigo hums.

Grimmjow mewls in response, and his hands which had been grasping and grappling at Kisuke’s shoulders a minute ago - still seemingly intent on reversing their position, _despite_ his orders - release their hold to reach for Ichigo instead.

Ichigo coos, and Kisuke releases Grimmjow's throat as the alpha shifts, moves and straddles Grimmjow's stomach, his back to the shinigami as he curls down over the _pretty, pretty_ omega. He slides his fingers out of the arrancar’s mouth and replaces them with his tongue, dragging the forked edge of it across the ridges of carnivorous teeth.

When he draws back, he nips at Grimmjow's lower lip, sinks his own teeth into soft skin before releasing him and sitting up straight with a sigh.

"You gonna behave, now, pretty thing? Gonna be good?" The words are underlaid by a low rolling purr, his chest buzzing with the vibrations.

Grimmjow chirps, demanding - verbal communication once again lost to his heat addled mind - but his eyes are wide and the stuttering purr in his chest, the angle of his head, tilted back, neck bared, gentle pets at Ichigo’s thighs all sing the truth. _I’m good I‘ll be good so good for you_.

“So bossy,” Kisuke huffs in reply and his hands trail down Ichigo’s sides, massaging gently at the base of his spine with his thumbs.

Ichigo shivers at the touch and smooths two fingers over the angle of Grimmjow’s cheekbone. His smile softens, adoring. “He is, isn’t he?” and presses another kiss to Grimmjow’s lips, simultaneously sliding down Grimmjow’s body until the arrancars cock is resting in the crease of his ass.

Kisuke offers a single, languid thrust, avidly watching the dribble of cum that escapes Grimmjow’s opening, attention focused on the way Grimmjow responds and reacts to every touch, every movement. He really is lovely like this, open on Kisuke’s cock and _actually_ begging for more.

He drags a finger lightly up the underside of Grimmjow’s cock until the arrancar bucks reflexively, thrusting between Ichigo’s cheeks and fucking himself lightly on Kisuke, it’s still much too soon for Kisuke’s overstimulated self and he hisses again.

“Naughty, Grimm,” Ichigo chuckles, “Kisuke needs a rest, you need to stay _still_.” Gold eyes survey his omega for a teasing moment and Grimmjow whimpers again, demanding more sensation. Ichigo leans forward to lick luxuriously into Grimmjow’s mouth, catch his lip with his fangs, and grins when he feels Kisuke help wind Grimmjow up, because the omega is clearly quickly spiraling back to a place of _too much not enough please please please please_ moans and purrs escaping his throat. He has been so patient already.

And Ichigo is a very good alpha.

He sits back slowly onto Grimmjow’s cock. Grimmjow might be the one in heat but he’s so fucking wet himself that he doesn’t need to take his time. The sensation is not unfamiliar to Ichigo’s toys but the added warmth and the small adjustments and twitches Grimmjow makes as he battles to stay still bring a whole new level of pleasure to the act.

Grimmjow releases a strangled moan, throws his head back against the pillows again and does his absolute best not to move when Ichigo squeezes around him. Fuck, he feels so _gone,_ but Ichi said stay still, stay still, Kisuke needs it. Grimmjow can be good for them. _Is_ being good for them. He forces himself to open his eyes again.

“ _Pretty_.” Ichi is. Fuck he’s so. He’s so good to Grimmjow. Kisuke’s so good to Grimmjow. They’re--

Grimmjow didn’t think he’d ever _have_ another pack. Though he’d have to ride out his heats alone. Degrade himself. Beg for Hallibel or Nel to take pity on him. Didn’t think Ichigo and Kisuke would want to help. But they do, they _do_ , they’re so good, _god_ Grimmjow thinks he loves them. As close to love as his hollow heart can get. Could just be his cunt talking.

He shudders, gasps when Ichigo is pressed fully to him. It’s so much. Kisuke inside of him, plugging him full and Ichigo on him, keeping him so nice and warm and, it - God - fuck - he can’t - he doesn’t even have any other words - just _fuck_ and _god -_ he thinks maybe Ichigo and Kisuke _are_ his gods. More than Aizen ever managed. They’re, they. They _have him._ They’ll hold him, keep him here in his skin, safe.

“ _Please-_ ” He gasps, flexes claws against Ichigo’s thighs until they pop straight through skin.

Kisuke stares amused over Ichigo’s shoulder and thrusts again to drag another noise from Grimmjow’s throat.

Ichigo hisses, low and sharp as claws press into his skin, clenches around Grimmjow's cock in response to the pain, thighs flexing where they splay over the hollow's waist. "Ah," he gasps, winces a little as he tries to relax again. Grimmjow is _thick,_ and the stretch is _deep_ , something he usually has to work himself up to taking with fingers inside of himself and his other hand playing over his clit _._ Kisuke takes over that particular job now that he’s not pinning Grimmjow down.

"Grimmjow," he breathes, then it devolves into a purr as he rolls his hips, starting off with gentle little circular motions.

Grimmjow stiffens, abs tightening enough to force his head and shoulders off the mattress in his attempt not to buck.

“Sensitive, Grimm-kun?” Kisuke chuckles again, hands finding Ichigo’s hips to help direct his movements. Ichigo sighs in relief and let's himself follow the way Kisuke is pressing him to move, leaning into it. It's _so good._ He didn't realise how fucking _sensitive_ he was inside.

"Don't call him t-that, Kisuke. Sounds dumb," he manages, then drags sharp nails down Grimmjow's chest when the head of his cock presses against that divine spot inside him. He's pretty sure he makes some unholy noise, a choked moan.

Grimmjow echoes him, and his perception of reality shifts and slips like ice under his feet because Kisuke starts moving again. Him and Ichigo - _together_ \- it’s so much, too much. More than he’s had in so _long_ he’s drunk on the pleasure and the fullness and the _being wanted_.

He wasn’t supposed to have this again, deserve this again. He lost his pack and it was _his_ fault and he - sobs. It’s the good kind of sob. The kind when air is stolen straight from his lungs by something _better_. Kisuke’s cock, Ichigo’s mouth, the heat, the slide, the touch. Hands holding him down, holding him steady, coaxing him into another brain fizzling orgasm, and then a second and then—

He’s blinking back tears of overstimulation. Every stab of Kisuke’s cock and swivel of Ichigo’s hips drags another choking moan from him, he doesn’t sound like anything other than what he is; a hollow. And they _want him._ He can feel it, smell it, _taste it_ even. He’s safe. Full. Satiated.

Ichigo and Kisuke fuck him hard until nearly all of Kisuke’s first load has squirted back out with the force of Ichigo’s riding and has dripped down his ass and thighs to pool on the bed under him. They keep going until he’s forgotten how to breathe right. Until his hands don’t work and he has to rely on Ichigo to know when to kiss him and when to pet him and when to choke him.

It’s perfect. More than perfect when Ichigo arches over him, pretty bitten lips falling open into a long moan and his head dropping back to rest on Kisuke’s shoulder while he rides out his orgasm.

Grimmjow thinks he might even have cum again, his hips stuttering and cunt clenching, when Kisuke sinks his blunt shinigami teeth into the meat of his alpha’s shoulder, overlapping beautifully with Grimmjow’s own needy marks he doesn’t quite remember leaving.

His grey eyes find Grimmjow’s teary ones over Ichigo’s shoulder. His next thrust is his last one. Hot cum spilling deep inside of Grimmjow and he’s a shinigami, doesn’t have all the instincts, but he sees the desperation in Grimmjow’s eyes and he _stays_. Fucks him full, and then presses two fingers in alongside his cock to plug him up even better.

Grimmjow is too exhausted to keep moaning, settles on a pleased whimper and a clumsy tug at his pack, coaxing them down on top of him in a pile.

They might be chuckling at him, but he’s too satiated, too safe and warm to care. He drifts off like that. Kisuke filling him and Ichigo squeezing around his softening cock.

* * *

It takes some reshuffling after Grimmjow’s heat finally calms enough for him to sleep. Between Ichigo and Kisuke, as limited in movement as he is presently, (Grimmjow whines like he might actually die when the beta tries to pull out), they do eventually manage to all get curled up properly on the bed. Grimmjow is undisturbed through the migration from the bottom of the bed to under the covers, happy to be moved and manipulated as long as he stays full. The end result leaves Kisuke and Ichigo nose to nose with the arrancar cuddled between them.

It’s comfortable. Easy.

The nest could use some more pillows, but, frivolities. Ichigo has everything he needs right here.

“You okay?”

“Hmm?” Kisuke blinks sleepy grey eyes calmly. “Ah.”

“That… a good ‘ah’?”

A small smile crosses Kisuke’s face. Absent is any trace of discomfort or embarrassment. Ichigo is surely feeling enough for both of them, now that he’s coming off the hormone high. “I suppose… Grimmjow has dropped enough hints that this _may_ have been the direction in which we were heading.”

“Grimmjow?” Ichigo asks, the incredulous raising of brows can be heard in his voice, though he is much too content for such expressions right now. “Subtle? I don’t think he knows the meaning.”

When the arrancar wants something, he goes for it. He has no shame, nor is he shy. Though he might not always say what he means, or what he’s thinking, he has long since moved past that point within the safe confines of the shōten.

“Kisuke, his favourite place to drunkenly pass out is your _lap_.”

“Or yours.” The blonde quips back. His expression over the blue curl of hair is soft, grey eyes tracing the slip of his fingers through the sweaty mop, pulling it back away from shuttered eyes.

Grimmjow’s exhale is pleased.

“Yeah, I guess.” But Ichigo’s point stands. Kisuke has very much been embroiled in Grimmjow’s engagement with the human world for many years. Grimmjow is just as comfortable with him, reaches out for him just as frequently as he reaches for Ichigo. He demands the same level of violence, extends the same respects, requests the same attention.

The shōten is more of a home to him than Hueco Mundo ever was.

Something uncertain must show on his face, because Kisuke speaks up again.

“It’s a good ‘ah’, Ichigo.” His large hand reaches over Grimmjow to stroke through Ichigo’s hair, cupping the side of his head with a warm palm. “I’m not often taken by surprise, let me relish in your unpredictability.” He says it with the vibrato of a truly weighty complement, and Ichigo can feel his cheeks flush.

He hides his smile by pressing a kiss to Grimmjow’s brow.

They drift, comfortable and exhausted, tangled with each other, their reiatsu settling in a warm weave of energy. It’s an absurd situation, but nothing less would be befitting of any of them.

The door slams open with a bang and Grimmjow sits bold upright with an offended yowl, Kisuke’s cock slipping free with an audible squelch. Ichigo is at his shoulder protectively, teeth bared and gold-brown eyes narrowed. Kisuke remains lax in the bedding. Not a threat. Though, the view greeting them certainly _looks_ like a threat.

“DID YOU JUST HAVE AN ORGY?!” - Yoruichi stands bare and prepared, a large inflatable purple knotted dildo strapped between her powerful thighs, already slick with lube - “WITHOUT ME?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Moth and I have both been so busy that we haven't had a chance to update any of our actual fics... so have 10k of porn instead!
> 
> As always, you can find us on Tumblr at queen-plouton and mothwoodgoblin or on twitter! Check out bio's for details.
> 
> HUGE THANKS to Quarter-Life-Crisis for beta reading for us <3


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